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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23843128">Autopsy of John Doe #367822</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableFangirl_writes/pseuds/IneffableFangirl_writes'>IneffableFangirl_writes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The X-Files</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>And also because look at her, Autopsy audio, Mulder is one weird SOB, Mulder jerks off to Scully's voice, You'd probably do the same thing, because he's a perv</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:47:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,361</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23843128</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableFangirl_writes/pseuds/IneffableFangirl_writes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulder jerks off to the audio of Scully doing an autopsy because he's the most sexually frustrated.</p><p>Taken from the backlog of fic on my computer.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Autopsy of John Doe #367822</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>This was by far the most humiliating thing that he had ever done. Counting all his high school memories and his first fumbling attempts with girls. Counting being caught with porn or skin mags. Counting, and he winced to think about it even now, his first experience with alcohol, trying to keep it up and failing with a girl he had pursued for months, only to watch her laugh and walk away. This was worse. It was a million times worse and despite the lingering sense of embarrassment, there he was. Tape playing. Hand caressing his crotch. Her voice doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>things</span>
  </em>
  <span> to his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dr. Dana Scully, autopsy of John Doe #367822, age approximately thirty-five years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he just closed his eyes and tuned out the words, just listened to the rise and fall of her voice, it would be enough. He could get this done and return the tape and never repeat this experience again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Palming the bulge between his legs, Fox Mulder closed his eyes and listened. Her voice was low and calm, soothing. She was using her doctor tone, precise and sure. There was no doubt in her mind about what she was doing. God, he loved that confidence in her. She could be stubborn as hell and irritatingly close minded but damn if she didn’t know what she wanted and what she was capable of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are no prominent identifying marks on the body; no tattoos or large scars. Bruising is apparent around the chest area, presumably from the attempts at CPR reported by the first witness on scene.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is weird,” Mulder muttered to himself, stroking the bulge over his jeans. “And wrong. Scully would kill me if she knew.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he pressed harder before unzipping his jeans and cupping his rapidly hardening erection. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am making the first incision.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhhh…” Mulder murmured, rubbing the pad of his thumb along the front of his boxers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ribs are cracked where bruising was on the skin and I am cutting open the ribcage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the tape, several sharp snapping sounds made Mulder flinch and he pressed the fast forward button to skip over the noise. Play. Her voice again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was hard and he closed his eyes again. Ignored the words until it was only her voice, soft and steady. Strokes became more insistent, rougher, and then he was fumbling with his boxers, pulling them away so  there was more skin-on-skin contact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scully,” he murmured, wrapping his hand around himself. Slow at first, just as deliberate and steady as her hands would be. Imagining her face as the buzz of her voice continued in the background.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the tape, her voice raised in surprise and his hand tightened in response to the unexpected change. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh God.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He bit his tongue, inhaling through his nose sharply. He could feel the heat run through his body, eyes fluttering open before closing again, blocking out his living room, picturing her. Hair curling around her face, that half-smile across her lips, lipstick just a bit smeared, God he wanted to smear it more. He wanted to taste every inch of her. Her voice alone was enough to make his heartbeat quicken and his libido jump. Touching her was like fire. His hand pumped in time with his heartbeat, which was steadily rising.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scully,” he murmured again, and then “Dana.” Breathing more heavily now, he could see her in his mind, what he imagined she looked like naked. Her adorable freckles probably spattered across her chest and belly like stars in the sky. Her breasts soft curves, belly warm under his touch. Would she close her eyes when he touched her? Would she gasp or ask for more?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Any semblance of control or dignity he had was gone, eyes closed and listening to her voice on the autopsy tape as he fucked into his own hand with wild abandon, panting her name. Faster and with less and less coordination, until his back began to arch and his breath came in spurts, his hips jerking as release came at last, calming the intense need that ached all through him. When it was finished, he sat on his couch, pants and boxers not even off of his legs, letting himself come down from it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the endorphin high rushing through him, the embarrassment was nearly nonexistent. Yes it was weird as hell and yes if she ever found out, she’d kill him, but this option was infinitely preferable to remaining seated at his desk when she leaned over to look at a file, not wanting to get up for fear of betraying how irritatingly turned on he was. It was just one time. One try and he would go back to porn or skin mags or whatever else he could do to get off. He’d just return the tape and pretend it never happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tape played on as Scully described the state of John Doe’s internal organs and Mulder reached around for a tissue and began wiping up the mess his leisure time had produced. He was interrupted by a soft but pointed cough.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodpleasedon’tbe</span>
  </em>
</p><p><span>“Mulder, what the hell are you doing?” Her voice was pleasant, dangerously so.</span><span><br/></span> <em><span>Shit. </span></em></p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Damnit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scully,” he managed, trying to think up something to say. “How long have you been standing there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knocked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” his voice cracked like he was a fucking fourteen year old hitting puberty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t answer so I thought you were out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My car is here,” he managed, trying to think of a way to keep cleaning semen off himself while not looking embarrassed and guilty. He didn’t come up with one, and the tissue he had was the last in the box. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to clean up a bit,” he began, swallowing hard as he avoided eye contact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can see that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the background, the autopsy record noted Scully’s findings regarding lesions on the victim’s liver and Mulder wished not for the first time that he had telekinesis and could turn the damn thing off. She stood in the doorway between him and the hall and he wasn’t going to let her watch him readjust himself inside boxers and pants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scully, you’re in the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think you’re really in a position to be talking boundaries, Mulder. Or should I call you Fox now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t,” he said weakly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And why not? If you can call me Dana, I don’t see why I can’t call you Fox.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, it’s been awhile since I got laid and I just...I was just letting off some steam is all. I’m really sorry, Scully.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you?” she raised an eyebrow and he could feel some inner part of him crumbling into ash. He was dead. He was so beyond dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>come on Mulder, you can do this </span>
  </em>
  <span>“disrespectful to you and perverted and I’m really sorry okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Return the tape,” she said, and as the front door shut, he flopped back in relief. This was definitely the most embarrassing moment of his life. There was no topping this. The fact that he hadn’t just died of shame was some sort of universal miracle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened again and frantically he pulled his boxers into place and zipped up his pants, shoving the dirty tissue into his pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I almost forgot,” she was there in the doorway again, holding a little plastic rectangle. “You left one of your audio case logs in the office. You said you were transcribing it tonight so I thought I’d bring it over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” He was never going to be able to look her in the eye again. Ever. He might need to request a new partner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem. And Mulder?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” he became intensely interested in his shoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m usually on top of things like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keeping better track of my files. Got it. Sorry.”</span>
  <em>
    <span> For the love of all that is holy, </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>go away</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t talking about the files, Mulder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the comment processed and his head shot up in surprise and interest, the front door was already closed again and she was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn everything...just...damn everything.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
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